


Don't Say a Word (Just Dance With Me)

by cathcer1984



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Stiles, Bad Friend Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Blogger Stiles Stilinski, Canon Compliant, Demisexuality, Discussions of sex, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Lonely Stiles Stilinski, Love Confessions, M/M, Online Relationship, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:55:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22409053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathcer1984/pseuds/cathcer1984
Summary: AllHailTheKinghas left the following comment on your postI want:If you're amenable, I want to give this to you. Will you let me?With a frown Stiles clicks on the link to the post, it opens automatically in a new tab and his faces heats when he sees what he wrote.I want...I want someone to woo me. Send me flowers, hold my hand, take me dancing and to dinner. Talk to me about books and movies, intellectual and silly things.I want someone to  fall in love with.I want the excitement of dating without the expectation of sex.I don't want sloppy hand jobs from frat boys who don't know what they're doing with a dick that isn't theirs.I want someone who will wait to take me apart with their hands and mouth.  I want to be held at night and wake up next to him the next morning. I want sleepy morning sex and soft kisses, breakfast in bed and comfortable silence.*Or the one where Stiles has a blog and one of his posts makes a reader want to woo him.
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 49
Kudos: 1480
Collections: Not to be misplaced, Silver - TW





	Don't Say a Word (Just Dance With Me)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm supposed to be working on another fic but this idea came to me instead. Nonny, I'm still doing your request it's just taking a while.
> 
> This became a hell of a lot longer than I anticipated. 
> 
> I know we all know that the person Stiles is messaging is Peter because that's the point of the fic, but like, pretend you don't know that ;)

The blog was something Stiles had started when he left Beacon Hills to start college. He didn't have any friends, lost contact very quickly with the people he'd left behind. Stiles struggled to make new friends because he was too jaded and sarcastic. He knew about the supernatural creatures of the world and most people didn't.

So he created a safe, anonymous place for him to talk about himself, his life, his fears and his fantasies. It started two years ago and Stiles still gets comments and likes on some of his old posts.

He's supposed to be writing an assignment for his economics class when he's distracted by an email coming through on his blog email. Stiles likes to keep his blog and personal accounts separate so he flicks from his personal account to the incognito window he has minimized with his blog and blog email open constantly.

"Let's see what this is about." Stiles says to himself as he opens the email telling him he has a comment on a blog entry called ' _I want_ '.

He can't remember which post it was, must have been a while back. Stiles scrubs a hand over his hair and reads the email.

_AllHailTheKing has left the following comment on your post **I want** :  
_

_If you're amenable, I want to give this to you. Will you let me?_

With a frown Stiles clicks on the link to the post, it opens automatically in a new tab and his faces heats when he sees what he wrote.

**I want...  
**

**I want someone to woo me. Send me flowers, hold my hand, take me dancing and to dinner. Talk to me about books and movies, intellectual and silly things.**

**I want someone to fall in love with.**

**I want the excitement of dating without the expectation of sex.**

**I don't want sloppy hand jobs from frat boys who don't know what they're doing with a dick that isn't theirs.**

**I want someone who will wait to take me apart with their hands and mouth. I want to be held at night and wake up next to him the next morning. I want sleepy morning sex and soft kisses, breakfast in bed and comfortable silence.**

Stiles sat back in his chair feeling winded. He barely remembers writing the post it was after he'd gone to a frat party, gotten drunk and horny. He'd sucked off a frat boy who fumbled with Stiles' dick before passing out. Stiles had jerked himself off and stumbled back to his dorm where he'd written the post.

It was over a year ago. Didn't mean it was any less true now.

Making a decision Stiles goes to the post and replies to the comment. **_Yes. I'm amenable._**

The reply from AllHailTheKing comes in less than a minute later as a private message.

_Hello, darling. I hope it's alright that I took this out of the public commentary._

Stiles scolds himself when he feels the smile forming on his face. This is a stranger, don't get attached, they could be a psychotic murderer. He snorts to himself, he's dealt with his fair share of those, he can totally handle this.

**Hey, it's totally not an issue.**

_Wonderful news to hear. May I ask your name? Mine is Peter._  
****

**If you can pronounce it dude call me Mieczyslaw.**

_Ah. That explains your the Mischief_Managed title of you blog. I assumed you were a Harry Potter fan._

Stiles grins to himself. **I am totes a HP fan dude! Are you?**

_Indubitably. I tend to be direct, sweetheart, and I would like to know if you have a PO Box or an address you're comfortable giving me._

He starts to type a reply, deletes it and the blinking cursor in the empty 'reply' box mocks him. A message comes through again.

_Was that too forward of me, Mischief? I wanted to start wooing you as soon as possible._  
****

**Why me?**

_I've recently stumbled on your blog and I read through all your posts. You're witty, smart, sarcastic (at least I believe you're being sarcastic, hard to tell in print.) The pictures you've posted of yourself are teasingly delicious. I want to see all of you._  
****

**I'm not some piece of ass! >:(** Stiles is a little bit affronted. The pictures he's posted only show bits of him and never his face.

_You mistake my intentions, my dear. I wish to see you as a human being, as a man with emotions and personality. Your body, while appearing to be lithe and young, is not my sole interest._

Almost immediately it's followed by, _I'm demisexual. If that clarifies things for you._

**Oh. Right. Sorry. I just get some vulgar messages from old dudes asking me to post pics of my dick.**

_What is your definition of 'old dudes'?_

That makes Stiles pause, he frowns as he types back. **Some of them have been sixty, usually based on their profiles they're in their forties to fifties**

 _Before we take this any further Mischief, I feel like I should inform you that I am thirty-eight. I also have a daughter (estranged) who is possibly around your age, she is twenty._   
****

**Oh.**

_Does that make you uncomfortable? If it does we should part ways here. I am not willing to pursue a courtship or a relationship with an individual whom I make uncomfortable by factors beyond my control ie my age and my past._  
****

**Not uncomfortable, just surprised I guess. I want to explore this. My PO Box is: Mr. M. Mieczyslaw.PO Box 000456, New Haven, CT 06520.**

_Thank you. Now are you free to talk some more or do you have work to do?_

Stiles rolls his eyes. **I have an assignment for econ I have to do. But it's more fun talking to you, dude.**

_Economics is a large area to cover. What's the assignment?_  
****

**Velocity of money.**

_Interesting topic. Do you need me to go?_  
****

**I don't want you to go. You could stay and I'll reply when I can. If you want?**

_I want._ The reply makes Stiles laugh. He minimizes the window and starts writing his assignment, it's comforting knowing there is someone waiting to talk to him whenever he's ready.

**

The next day Stiles sees he has messages waiting for him after class. AllHailTheKing has sent him two messages, there are others as well but Stiles ignores those.

_Good morning, darling, I forgot to give you this last night: allhailtheking@gmail.com in case you ever want to move the conversation away from this platform._

Then, _Also, keep an eye on your PO Box over the week. I don't know how long the post will take between Manhattan and New Haven._

Stiles feels excitement building. He goes onto AllHailTheKing's blog. There's not a lot posted but he reblogs daily. There's content about feminism, the LGBTQ+ community. He posts scathing comments about laws that are discriminatory or stupid.

There is a picture AllHailTheKing posted of himself which makes Stiles pause. There's a thick neck tendons popping as it's twisted to the side, light beard covering his chin and jaw line and around two softly quirked lips.

Stiles licks his lips and he comments after a couple more minutes of staring. **Hot damn, dude.**

An instant message pops up. _Well hello, sweetheart._

**Yo! Don't mind me, I'm just staring at your wonderful neck, jaw and lips.**

_And you accused me of being only interested in your body._

Stiles pauses.

_In case you're stewing in your thoughts, my dear, I was being flippant._

**Are you often flippant?**

_Constantly. My nephew often calls me an asshole._

**That's okay. I'm an asshole too!**

_... Are you being flippant now?_

**No.**

Stiles takes a deep breath now sure if he's ready to expose this part of himself. But he's kept it in for so long and, in truth, he's lonely. Stiles wants someone on his side.

**My best friend and I had a fight before I left for college. I haven't spoke to him since and he hasn't contacted me. I was so fucking pissed that I changed colleges without telling anyone other than my dad.**

_Oh sweetheart. I'm so sorry that happened to you. Were you good friends?_  
****

**The best. We were like brothers. We each only had one parent growing up for, you know... reasons. But like we had each other until his head got turned and he got his dick wet. Suddenly didn't like some things I did. I didn't agree with things he did and it blew up. I lost all my friends.** Even though it's been over two years Stiles still hasn't really faced up to the fact that he's pack-less, friendless and completely alone.

_All of them?_  
****

**There weren't many of them to begin with. Seven of us. Probably. Maybe six. Definitely five.**

_Sweetheart... five is still a lot of friends to lose in one go. Have you made any new ones at college?_  
****

**Nah. It's hard to relate to them tbh I feel like twenty years older.** Stiles' finger hover over the keys wondering if he's said too much, or maybe, not enough. He presses enter and waits for the reply to come through.

_Mischief, I can't sense your tone however I have the strangest feeling that you're lonely. I can't fill the void of friendship, nor do I want to. I want more. Can you do me a favour, sweetheart?_  
****

**I can try.** Stiles doesn't want to even think about the first part of the reply.

_Go out tonight. You're a student, they have student bars near you, yes? Go to one. Talk to someone, stay for one drink at least._  
****

**What, no pics or it didn't happen?**

_If you tell me you went, I'll believe you. You gain nothing from lying to me, my dear. I just want you to have a bigger support system than your dad._

Stiles feels angry then his rational brain kicks in. He's functioned for so long with just his dad and his blog. **Fuck.**

For so long Stiles has built up walls to keep people out, he's used sarcasm as a defense mechanism since he was a kid. He distances himself from his classmates because he thinks they won't understand him or like him. Better to reject them first than let them hurt him like he was by Scott and the pack. 

_Give people a chance, Mischief. They might surprise you._

**You never struck me as an optimist.**

_You can't hear me but I am cackling. I have been called many things in my life, Mischief, but no one has ever accused me of being an optimist._

Stiles lets out a laugh, that sounds strangled and wet to his own ears. He scrubs at his damp cheeks. **It'll be our little secret ;)**

He picks up his phone and adds a second gmail account to it, allowing him to receive emails from his blog on it. Stiles takes a deep breath and pushes away from his desk. He looks around his dorm room, it's about twenty past seven so Stiles makes a decision. He changes into a clean t-shirt and plaid shirt pulls on his converse.

When he looks at the screen Stiles sees he has some messages waiting for him.

 _No one would believe you anyway._ _For you, my dear, I'd be optimistic every day of the week_

_But not twice on Sundays. That would be my glass-half empty day._

_Sweetheart? You still there?_  
****

**Here. But I'm going to head out now. I've got gmail on my phone so we can email.**

_Darling, I'm proud of you. If you're going out I won't bother you by emailing. Enjoy yourself, love and I hope you manage to make a friend._  
****

**I hope so too. I just don't know how.**

_I'll let you in on a secret. Nobody knows how to make friends as an adult, everybody feels the same. Just start a conversation and each time you see them keep talking._  
****

**Sounds easy when you say it.**

_Oh it's not easy._

Stiles rolls his eyes but he's smiling. **I'm off now. Wish me luck**

_Good luck, darling and goodnight._

**

Stiles is at the bar nearest to his place. It's busy but not crowded, he orders a rum and coke, sits on a stool and sips it.

"Hey, you, smart bloke!" A girl comes tumbling into Stiles' shoulder then bounces on the stool next to him steadying herself against the bar. "Wha's your name?"

"Stiles." He pauses, "You?"

"I'm drunk and you're cute." She sways forward. "You're in my econ class. You always know the answers. How come?"

"I do the readings." Stiles answers, deadpan. She laughs loudly, her dark curls bouncing around her cheeks.

"You're funny Stiles," her hand lands on his forearm. "Wanna go back to mine?"

Stiles finishes off his drink and is seconds away from saying yes because he's lonely, touch starved and a little desperate. "I'm seeing someone, thanks for the offer though."

"Oh no worries. If she's willing to share you just let me know." She winks, showing off bright orange eye shadow.

"It's new but I don't think he's the sharing type." Stiles shrugs and she sighs dramatically slinging an arm around his shoulders.

"No problem, man. You can buy me a drink instead."

"Sure," Stiles smiles at her. "Do I get your name now?"

"Nancy. Didn't I tell you before?"

With a laugh Stiles signals the bar tender, "no you did not. Rum and coke for me and a..."

"Vodka orange for the lady." Nancy grins.

"Come here," Stiles tugs her close and holds his phone up for a selfie. He takes the photo, both of them grinning. It's a decent photo but Stiles crops it so all that can be seen is their faces from mouth down. He hasn't shaved in a while so there's a month-long beard around his mouth, chin and jaw. Nancy's orange lipstick is shiny and her mouth stretched into a wide smile.

Stiles sends the cropped photo via email. **Just made a friend. Thanks for pushing me to go out.**

"Texting the boyfriend?" Nancy teases.

"Yep. Showing him how beautiful you are."

His phone pings with an email.

_Well you certainly have a bite-able neck, sweetheart. She's almost as beautiful as you. I'm glad you're having fun, Mischief._

Smiling to himself Stiles tucks his phone into his pocket and focuses his attention on Nancy.

***

Stiles feels guilty. He spent a lot of Saturday working on a law assignment with Nancy and a couple of her friends. One of them, Francis, is in Stiles' economics class so they meet up on Sunday to work on the velocity of money assignment together.

Since he's been so busy and hardly at his from Stiles hasn't really checked his blog. He's not posted in a few days and has lots of messages asking how he is. If he spends time searching through for a specific username it's no one's business but his own.

Opening a new, blank page Stiles makes a post.

** Sorry for being so AWOL. **

**I have been outside my dorm for most of the weekend. I went out to a bar Friday night, made a friend and spent Saturday with her and some others. Sunday I spent with a great dude from my Econ class.**

**I think I have friends now? IRL I mean, you guys are still awesome!**

**So, to you, Mr Gentleman (you know who you are) I want to say thank you for giving me the push I needed.**

Biting his lip Stiles waits and waits but he doesn't hear from the one person he wants a response from. He obsessively checks his blog emails and messages until it's nearing one in the morning and he sends the first message.

**Hey, I know it's late but I haven't heard from you. Sorry I wasn't around much the weekend.**

Stiles doesn't get a message back. He closes his laptop, turns the wifi off on his phone and goes to bed. His mind whirring and constantly bouncing back and forth between 'what if' scenarios.

He hardly sleeps and when it's five am Stiles gives up, gets his laptop and curls up against the headboard. Holding his breath Stiles checks his messages.

With a woosh he lets it go when he sees the name he'd searched for obsessively.

_Oh darling never apologise for having fun/doing work. I wasn't around this weekend myself, business to take care of. I am sorry I missed you, I saw your post and message rather late... Or more accurately, rather early._

Stiles checked the time stamp, it was sent seventeen minutes ago.

**Are you still up?**

_Indeed I am. What are you doing up so early?_

**Couldn't sleep.**

_Sorry to hear that darling._

**I want to tell you about it, can I?**

_Of course you can Mischief._

**I feel guilty. I went out Fri as you know, Nancy hit on me and I told her I was seeing someone. I meant you, is that okay?**

_Sweetheart, of course it's okay. I've told people I'm dating you. I have to confess, I keep looking at the picture you sent me. I so wish to see your whole face, from what I have seen though, you are gorgeous._

**Um, aren't you demi?**

_I am. For me that means I have to be emotionally involved with someone before I have sex with them. It doesn't mean I don't appreciate beauty in people especially in areas of the body I find outrageously attractive._

**Oh. Sorry. What parts?**

_Neck, wrists, hands. Thighs on men, hips on women._

Stiles sits at the computer and looks at his hands. They aren't anything special to him but he gets an excited feeling of anticipation. Quickly using his phone, Stiles takes a picture of his arm. Forearm, wrist and hand over the messy sheets, the lighting is shit so he makes it black and white.

***sent a photo***

_Oh my darling. Did you take that just for me?_

**You're welcome ;)**

_Thank you, sweetheart. That's brightened my morning immeasurably._

Stiles bites his lip to stop the smile from taking over his face before he types anymore another message comes through.

_I take it you enjoyed your time out on Friday, and the weekend._

**I did. I didn't realise how lonely and touch starved I was until Nancy put her hand on my arm. I've said before but thank you.**

_Any time, sweetheart and I mean it. As much as I'm loathe to do so, I have to bid you goodnight/good morning. I haven't slept yet and I'm too old to be up all night._

**I'll let you go and get some sleep then. Sweet dreams.**

_I always have sweet dreams when I think of you, my dear. Enjoy your day. Goodnight._

**Night x**

Feeling better, calmer even Stiles set his alarm for ten just in case and he lies down, closes his eyes and dozes off.

**

On Wednesday he gets notice that there's a parcel at his PO Box to pick up. Stiles says goodbye to Nancy and Francis as he rushes out the library. It's a short walk to the post boxes and Stiles opens his heart pounding with anticipation.

The box is small and square it has his name and address on the top and underneath is the sender's details. Peter King PO Box 003781 Manhatten New York 10010

Now Stiles can send things back. He puts it carefully into his bag and hurries home.

The instant he's through the door Stiles gets the box out, trips over his feet and lands heavily on the couch. Sitting inside the box is a tag with Mischief written on it. The tag is tied with twine around the neck a beautiful glass fox.

It's not very big though it is wonderfully crafted. Stiles sits him on his bedside table. He snaps a picture and sends it off.

**He's beautiful, absolutely gorgeous. Thank you.**

The response doesn't come through until a couple of hours later.

_I am delighted to hear that you like him. He's hand made by an associate of mine. Only the best for you, my dear._

**Why a fox? They mean something to you?**

_Not as such. You remind me of a young man I once knew. He was like a fox- cunning, intelligent, ambitious._

**I'm not him**

_I'm aware, darling, and when I saw it I thought of you, not him._

**Good :-)**

_At the risk of sounding too forward Mischief, you are not far from my mind at all._

**I think about you all the fucking time. I don't even know what your job is.**

_I am independently wealthy and thus do as I please. Mostly I find and trade rare items, usually books._

**Sounds fascinating.**

_It is not at all as you imagine. Very often I am in the comfort of my own doing a vast amount of googling._

**That sounds familiar...** Stiles grins to himself, he's enjoying the conversation, the company and the attraction he's beginning to feel for the man on the other side of it all.

**

As the weeks move on Stiles finds himself in a new routine. During his economics and law classes he has Nancy and Francis, respectively. They study together on the weekends. He doesn't blog as much, doesn't rely so heavily on the comments as his social interaction for the week.

Stiles calls his dad more, instead of once a month he calls him weekly and some days his dad rings first. It took a while but Stiles told his dad, with some prodding from his friends, about how lonely he had been.

During Labor Weekend Stiles' dad comes out to visit him, he sleeps in Stiles' bed while Stiles kips on the floor. It's cramped but fantastic. Dad meets Nancy, takes an instant like to her. He's not sure about Francis but that could be because he's quiet and shy. Possibly because he smells like pot.

Stiles also tells his dad about Peter King. It's an awkward conversation.

"You're exchanging emails, letters and gifts with a man you've never met." Dad looks exasperated. "Stiles!"

"I know, dad. Okay. I know it's fucking weird but I trust him. He's a good man and he's good to me." Stiles rubs a hand over the back of his neck, "he's wooing me."

"Wooing you." Dad repeats in a flat tone. "What's his name?"

"Peter King." Stiles winces, "you won't find anything if you look him up."

Dad's eyebrows rise. "Oh? And you know that how?"

"I looked him up. It's a fake name. I haven't told him I know it's a fake name, I just don't want anything to ruin it."

"Son, I get it. You've let your guard down, he's wormed his way in but you have to be safe." Dad puts his hand on Stiles' shoulder. "He's a stranger, for all intents and purposes."

"I told him my name was Mieczyslaw."

Dad rolls his eyes, "your name is Mieczyslaw."

With a slight laugh Stiles nods, "yeah but he immediately called me Mischief. Just like-" Stiles swallows around the sudden lump in his throat.

"Just like mom." Dad pulls him into a tight hug. "I want you safe, so meet him. In person, in public and you let me and Nancy know where and when. You hear me?"

"Yeah." Stiles clears his throat, "yeah okay dad."

They hug again, tightly, before Stiles gets his phone out. A while ago he and Peter exchanged numbers so they can talk without having to go though the blog or gmail. He hovers over the name before sending a message. **What are your plans over Halloween weekend?**

Stiles doesn't get a response until the next day after he's said goodbye to his dad.

_I have no plans, other than a glass of wine and pretending I'm not home._

**Do you want to meet?** Stiles holds his breath.

_Yes._

Feeling excited Stiles grins at his phone screen. **Awesome! How do you want to do this?**

_I'll come to you. I have more funds and time to spare than you. Pick somewhere nice, somewhere I can take you dancing._

**You don't have to take me dancing.**

_I said I wanted to woo you, didn't I? And you said you wanted to go dancing. So I want to take you dancing._

Stiles has the distinct impression he's being amusing. **I'll find somewhere**

Which is how on Friday night finds Stiles feeling stupid in a suit on the side of the dance floor watching couples move gracefully. He's nervous and excited waiting for his partner to show up.

Setting this up Stiles had scoured the internet for a sophisticated place for dancing that wasn't a club and wasn't filled with students. He was about an hour's drive from the Yale campus, Nancy and his dad knew where he was and he was due to text them both in at seven o'clock on the dot with their prearranged password.

That's in about forty minutes because Stiles is early, about fifteen minutes early. He sways on his feet to the music and watches the dancers. When, through the crowd, Stiles spots a familiar face.

One he never expected to see again. Then it hits him when the same lightly bearded jaw and softly smirking lips from that photo he's stared at so much are right in front of his eyes.

"Peter. Oh my fucking god, _Peter_."

Peter Hale stands before Stiles in an impeccably fitted suit. "Mischief," he says in a broken whisper, lips quirking up at the corners. "Don't say anything, darling, just dance with me." He holds out a hand and Stiles, drawn in and helpless to stop himself, takes it.

On the dance floor Peter pulls Stiles close with a hand on the small of his back, their joined ones resting on Peter's chest. Stiles puts his free hand on Peter's back, by his shoulder blade. They are so close their cheeks brush as Peter guides them in slow movements around the dance floor.

For some reason Stiles' eyes are burning and he closes them quickly, feeling stupid and overwhelmed.

"Darling." Peter murmurs in his ear. Stiles chokes back an almost sob. "I didn't know it was you Stiles not until I walked in and saw you wearing the suit you'd sent the photo of. You're perfect, love, and if you want me to walk away now just say the word."

Stiles swallows dry against the lump in his throat. "No," his voice is hoarse and breaks on the word. He wants to say more but there's too much to express. His chest is tight, his throat feels heavy, his eyes sting but it feels right. Stiles says the only thing he wants to; "Peter."

Without breaking the embrace Peter pulls away so he can see Stiles' face. This close he's just as breathtakingly beautiful as he always has been. Stiles takes his fill of studying Peter, he knows this man, he _does_ and it's terrifying because he knows the parts of him that Peter never told Mischief. And Stiles loves him anyway.

Peter must see something in his expression because he smiles, small but warm and genuine. "Mischief," he leans in to rub their cheeks together deliberately scent marking Stiles, and himself. Peter ends it with a lingering kiss close to the corner of Stiles' mouth.

They dance slowly in swaying circles around them other couples come and go from the floor, they remain where they are, as they are lost in each other.

"I have to text my dad." Stiles says regretfully into Peter's ear.

"I'll get us a drink. Rum and coke?" Peter pauses and when Stiles nods he slips away to the bar.

Stiles takes out his phone texts Nancy their password (BananaPoodles) before he rings his dad.

"Where are you?" His dad demands as soon as he answers after the first ring.

"Dad I'm fine. I promise. It's just-"

"Did he show?"

Stiles lets out a harsh laugh. "He did. I know his real name now."

"You believe what he said?"

"It's Peter Hale."

There's a pause and then his dad releases a long breath down the phone. "Derek Hale's lunatic uncle."

"Former lunatic. He's much better now." Stiles scans the crowd until his eyes land on Peter leaning against the bar two drinks in hand watching Stiles. When their eyes meet Peter raises an eyebrow and Stiles nods. Peter makes his way over. "Dad I'll call you in the morning. I promise I'm safe."

"Alright." Dad says reluctantly. "I trust your judgement. Love you kid."

"I love you too dad."

The phone call ends and Peter sets the drink on the table in front of him. "Thanks for the illusion of privacy."

"I didn't listen in, sweetheart, if that's what you're thinking."

Stiles flounders for what to say before settling on the truth. "I don't know what to think, Peter."

"You know me. You _trust_ me." Peter never looks away from Stiles' face. His gaze softens and he smiles gently, voice delicate, "Mischief."

"That's not fair." Stiles croaks and he takes a sip of his rum and coke. "My mom used to call me that."

Peter pauses. "You never said."

Shrugging Stiles looks at the condensation dripping down his glass as he feels his cheeks heat. "I didn't say I minded," he mutters.

"Sweetheart," Peter hesitates then says more firmly, "Stiles." When Stiles looks up and catches his gaze Peter continues "what do you want?"

 _You_ instantly comes to Stiles' mind, unbidden. He doesn't say it though just feels helpless. He fell in love with Peter King, but he killed Peter Hale and to find that they are one and the same is difficult for Stiles to grasp.

"I want to finish my drink and dance again, with you."

Peter smiles small and genuine and beautiful. "I'll drink to that, darling." He lifts his glass in a toast then takes a sip.

They sit across from each other in silence, the music swells around them as do the conversations of others. Stiles doesn't feel the need to fill the gap between them with words. Half way through his drink Stiles puts it down and his fingers brush Peter's. Using his little finger Peter hooks Stiles' smallest finger, there's a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as Stiles slides his hand over.

Biting his lip to control the smile Stiles keeps his eyes on the dancers as he curls his fingers around Peter's hand. They hold hands, Peter stroking his thumb over the Stiles' skin.

"Do you actually live in Manhattan?"

"Yes. I was a lawyer there before the fire. I still had my apartment. Moved in to it again when I'd had enough of Derek and Beacon Hills."

"I'm surprised you lasted as long as you did." Stiles smirks.

"I had another reason to stay, my dear." Peter sighs dramatically "and once he left for college I was bored and ignored. I went to where I thought he was." The look Peter gives him is heavy and pointed.

"I was supposed to go to Columbia."

"Indeed. Took me a month to find out you had transferred."

"You didn't follow up to find out where?" Stiles asked, surprised.

With a shake of his head Peter looks despondent for a moment. "I assumed when you cut ties with the pack it meant all of us. I was being respectful."

Stiles raises his eyebrows in disbelief.

Peter waves his hand. "I was turning over a new leaf."

"You couldn't get passed Columbia's firewalls could you?"

"No," Peter sounds petulant, his exaggerated pout making Stiles laugh. The expression on Peter's face as he sees Stiles laughing is a mix of wonder and hunger. "Have you finished your drink?"

"Yeah." Stiles swallows the last bit quickly. "Yeah I have."

Peter's fingers squeeze Stiles' as he rises to his feet, Stiles copies him and together they make their way onto the dance floor. Once again Peter pulls Stiles close and they sway to the music. Stiles closes his eyes and rests his head against Peter's.

***

More than two hours later they leave after have a light dinner inbetween dances. Stiles has undone a couple of buttons and is feeling relaxed and happy. Peter walks him to his car, holding his hand all the while.

"Not your type of car." Peter says after Stiles stops by the sensible, blue, four-door car. "It looks like it runs on more than duct tape and wishful thinking."

Stiles punches him in the arm. "Hey, don't be rude about Roscoe."

Peter gives him a flat look. 

"It's Nancy's car. She let me borrow it, didn't like the idea of me being reliant on buses or uber if my date was a lunatic murderer." Stiles gives Peter a fake bright grin. "And hey! You're not a lunatic anymore. So one out of two ain't bad."

Rolling his eyes Peter can't hide the amused chuckle. "My car is that way," he points further down the road. "I have a room near Yale, I'll be in town until Monday evening."

"Three whole days. I'm touched."

"I'm serious about wooing you, Mischief." Peter leans in to press his lips in a chaste kiss on Stiles' cheek. "Goodnight, love. I'll call you in the morning."

Stiles puts his hand where Peter's lips had been, he murmurs a "goodnight Peter, sweet dreams," then watches as the man walks away.

He feels slightly disappointed that Peter didn't try to kiss him properly. Then he remembers that Peter is demisexual and may not emotionally attached enough to Stiles to be romantically attracted to him. And, he asked for this. To be wooed with dancing and hand holding, he gets into the car and drives home unable to stop smiling the entire way.

***

The next morning Stiles woke feeling anticipatory for the day. He'd cleared his weekend making sure he'd done all his assignments and readings before classes on Monday. Stiles had done this for two reasons, either he was going to spend his time with Peter King - _Hale_ \- or he was going to drown his sorrows in beer and ice-cream if Peter King turn out to be a creep.

Stiles has his breakfast and a shower and waits. It gets to ten past ten in the morning when he gives up on waiting and just calls Peter.

"Good morning, sweetheart."

"Good morning Peter," Stiles parrots back, grin on his face. "How are you this morning?"

"I'm wonderful, thank you. And yourself?"

Stiles knows Peter is toying with him and he wants to play along but he's also impatient. "Ah, I'm alright. I'm curious as to your plans for the day?"

Peter hums thoughtfully, "I have no concrete plans. Do you?"

"That depends." Stiles bites his lip.

"On?"

"You. Would you like the ten cent tour of Yale?"

Peter huffs a laugh. "From you, Mischief, I would."

"Oh no, not from me I thought I'd get Handsome Dan to do it." Stiles smirks to himself as Peter hesitates before answering.

"Okay." He says slowly.

"Great. Meet me at eleven outside the library."

"See you at eleven, sweetheart."

Stiles hangs up the phone. He gets himself ready and heads over the library. He's sitting on the steps waiting for Peter to arrive when his phone rings.

"Hey Nancy."

"Did you have sex with him? Was he a creep? Are you a murder victim?"

"No. No and no."

She makes an outraged screech causing Stiles to hold the phone away from his ear. "Is he ugly?"

"God no!" Stiles pictures Peter's blue eyes and his smirk, his thick neck and thighs. "He's hot like burning, dude."

Nancy cackles in his ear. "Why didn't you fuck him?"

"I don't know if he-" Stiles cuts off he can see Peter getting out of a car. "I gotta go. We're doing a tour of Yale today. And no you can't meet him."

"Spoilsport." Nancy mutters before blowing a kiss down the phone. "Mwah. Later Stiles."

"Bye Nancy." Stiles tucks his phone into his pocket as he stands to meet Peter at the bottom of the steps. "Hi."

"Hello, love." Peter smirks and stops close enough to Stiles to touch but he doesn't.

From behind his back Stiles produces a bouquet of daffodils, bright yellow flowers, long green stem and tied with a twine bow. "These are for you."

"Thank you, darling." Peter brings them to his face but Stiles can't tell if he sniffs them or not.

"No problem. I got daffodils cause they don't really smell and they're pretty." He traces a finger over the edge of a petal. "They were my mom's favourite."

"Talia's too." Peter's lips twist up in a sad smile.

"Pop them in your car then we can start the ten cent tour." Stiles winks, "I put a little Spark on them so they won't wilt."

"Perfect." Peter leads the way to his rental car, places the flowers on the backseat. When he's done he looks around "so where's Handsome Dan?"

"We're going to meet him." Stiles reached out and takes hold of Peter's hand. Stiles pulls Peter around the campus until they reach their destination.

Stopping with a flourish Stiles sets his hand on Handsome Dan's shoulder. "Peter, meet Handsome Dan."

"It's a dog. Less than that," Peter rolls his eyes. "It's a statue of a dog."

"Shhhh." Stiles looks around, hands over Handsome Dan's ear. "He can hear you, Peter."

Peter surprises Stiles by laughing. He looks happy and carefree in a way he never appeared in Beacon Hills. "You are a delight, Mischief."

Taking Peter's hand again Stiles shows him around campus. He takes Peter to his favourite coffee cart, the historical buildings and finally to his favourite place to eat.

They sit at a small table in the back, knees pressed together. Peter is in the middle of telling Stiles about a witch who wanted The Book of Shadows which Peter spent weeks trying to find. Only to come back to the witch that it was a fictional book from Charmed. "And she says to me," Peter puckers his lips putting on a high pitched voice "uh duh, I'm like a big fan and like want the book like..." He rolls his eyes as Stiles cackles.

"Did you find one for her?"

"I-"

"Stiles!"

They're interrupted by a loud voice. Stiles groans. It's Nancy and Francis who is being dragged, literally, behind her. "Hey is this Pete? He's old but hot."

"It's Peter and yes I am, thank you." Peter smirks. "You must be Nancy."

She looks a little shocked.

"Your reputation precedes you." Peter says smoothly. Stiles hides a laugh behind a cough. 

"Stiles!" Nancy hits him in the shoulder.

"Hey! Mind the goods."

"Yes Nancy, mind the goods. I'm rather fond of them." Peter parrots, eyebrows raising.

Nancy flushes. She bends to whisper in Stiles' ear, "he's so fucking hot, why didn't you fuck him last night?"

"Oh my god." Stiles shoves her away, cheeks burning. He glances over to see Peter looking at him with an expression that can only be described as ravenous. "Go away."

"Sorry," Francis says in a whisper. His dark eyes wide as they flick between Stiles and Peter. Peter bares his teeth. Stiles kicks him under the table. "We'll go, Nancy, come on."

Suddenly Francis is the one pulling Nancy away. Peter's eyes never leaving them until they're out the door and out of sight.

"What's that look for?" Stiles knocks Peter's leg under the table.

"He's a 'wolf." Peter's gaze cuts from the door to Stiles in an instant pining him in place. "A beta from the Worthington Pack."

"Right. And his reaction to you?"

Peter grins sharply, teeth more fang than human. "I'm an alpha now, sweetheart. Not to mention a Hale and I was the Enforcer."

"An alpha?" Stiles pushes his chair back, watching closely as Peter's face shuts down.

"Of all the things to make you wary." Peters tone is delicate and disbelieving.

"The last time you were an alpha you went on a murder spree, bit Scott and I three a Molotov cocktail at you."

Peter spreads his arms in a mocking magnanimous way "look how I have forgiven you."

With a sigh, Stiles turns his head away. Out the corner of his eye he notes that Peter lets his hands drop. Neither of them seems to know what to say or Peter, like Stiles, is holding his tongue for fear of ruining whatever this is between them.

"Mischief."

"I'm sorry Peter. I shouldn't have assumed the worst."

"I do have previous form. I understand your concern however, darling, I am stable. I have a pack member." Peter pulls out his phone. "Phoebe." He flicks through to a photograph of a beautiful grey and white husky with eyes almost as blue as Peter's own.

"She's a dog."

"Siberian Husky, the most pack like dog breed. She's enough to keep me stable." Peter shrugs. "I had hoped to walk away from this weekend with another pack member."

"I-"

Peter lays his hand over Stiles' "I'm not asking for an answer just think about it, Mischief."

"Alright."

The air seems clearer and they settle back into their seats, still holding hands. "Is this the end of the ten cent tour?"

"It is." Stiles nods. "You'll need a full dollar to get to my dorm building."

Peter winks. "I think I have something better." He leans in slowly, making his intent clear.

Tipping his head to the side Stiles meets Peter half way. Peter's lips are warm and soft against his own, he flicks his tongue out to swipe over Stiles' bottom lip then pulls back.

"That's surely worth a couple of dollars," Peter whispers. "Where does that get me?"

"To the dorm room door, at least." Stiles presses their lips together again briefly. "That'll get you inside. Come on. I'll show you where I live."

**

As Stiles heads towards his dorm he points out places around the campus. "That's the tree where some crazy girl paid me twenty bucks to move."

"What?" Peter's fingers tighten around his in surprise.

"Yeah, she came asked me to move and rambled on about the grass and her dorm mates. I don't even know." Stiles laughs, pressing his arm along Peter's. "Then she came back and paid me twenty bucks to move."

"Which you took?"

"Duh." Stiles turns his head to rest his chin on Peter's shoulders. "It was twenty bucks."

Peter chuckles. Stiles kisses his cheek. They're at his dorm building so he lets them in and up to his room.

As he's shutting the door behind them Stiles realises, suddenly, it's the first time they've been alone. He's not concerned though, he trusts Peter. Stiles move to rest his back against the door, eyes on Peter as he wanders around the room trailing his fingers over objects, scent marking them.

Peter stops in the middle of the room and faces Stiles. They share a heated look. Slowly, Stiles pushes himself off the door, moving closer to Peter. Warm hands settle on his waist and Stiles rubs his palms over Peter's biceps. "Can I kiss you again?"

"Sweetheart," Peter whispers, "of course."

Stiles brushes their lips together, he pulls back and feels Peter's frustrated sigh of warm breath over his face. "You're demisexual."

"Yes."

"You want to kiss me?"

"Mischief, I want to do more than that." Peter is amused.

Stiles frowns, "then that means..."

"I'm emotionally involved, yes. I've always said I like you. I ... got attached to Mischief, though I knew I was hiding things from him. My past, my family name, the blood on my hands." Peter flicks his tongue out to wet his lips. "Then I saw you, Stiles, on the edge of the dance floor and I knew then that I'd worried for nothing. You know me, all of me, and if you accepted me then I would be hopelessly in love with you sooner rather than later."

"Oh." Stiles says faintly.

Peter's lips quirk upwards in a half-smile. "I have to admit, my dear, it didn't take long."

Stiles looks into Peter's eyes, over his face and can see no attempt at hiding the truth there. He takes a shaky breath then responds "yes."

Peter's brow furrows in confusion.

"Yes I'll be in your pack, Alpha Hale."

The way Peter's eyes flutter closed and his face relaxes is beautiful. When he opens his eyes they are alpha-red, "that makes me so happy, Mischief. Do you know what happens?"

"You have to bite me."

"With human teeth because you don't want to be turned, correct?"

Stiles nods. "If that's okay."

"Sweetheart, if you think an alpha is only an alpha of wolves then we need to reeducate you." Peter arches an eyebrow. "When I was growing up, hell, when Talia was my alpha we had humans in our pack and a druid."

"Deaton."

"That's right." Peter looks incredibly satisfied. "Talia may have had a Druid but _I_ have a Spark."

Rolling his eyes Stiles can't help the fond smile, "she's dead Peter. It's no good competing with her anymore."

"She's in an afterlife somewhere and when I die, on my terms,-"

"And remain dead." Stiles interjects.

"-we will be in the same place," Peter continues as if Stiles hadn't spoken. "And I will gloat."

Stiles hooks a hand around Peter's neck, "come here," he mumbles pulling Peter in for a tight hug. Peter's hands slide from his waist to around his back, holding him firmly, their chests pressed together.

Peter begins to sway, then quietly hums a tune.

"What are you doing?" Stiles asks softly, letting his body be moved.

"Shh, don't say a word, Mischief, just dance with me." Peter says then goes back to humming, moving them around in a swaying circle, unwilling to put any space between their bodies. Stiles hides his smile in Peter's shoulder and dances with him.

**

They go out for dinner, Peter picks the place and insists on paying. It's nowhere Stiles has been before, more expensive than the places he usually frequents. "Don't worry about the cost." Peter nudges his foot against Stiles' shin under the table. "I can smell your anxiety. I can afford to buy this restaurant fifty times over."

"Jesus, Peter. You can't be that filthy rich."

Peter grins sharply, "I am absolutely that filthy rich, darling."

With a slight shake of his head, Stiles scours the menu "I'm going to order the most expensive thing on the menu just for that."

"I don't think you'd like the lobster, sweetheart." Peter snarks back eyes on his menu as his lips quirk upwards in amusement. The waiter comes over and pours them each a glass of the red wine Peter had ordered, she leaves the bottle in the middle of the table and smiles pleasantly.

"Can I take your orders?"

"Peter?" Stiles says, inclining his head towards the other man.

With a smirk, Peter replies "it's my treat, love, you can order first."

Stiles glares at him before smiling blandly at the waitress. "I'll have the New York Steak with mushroom sauce, roast potatoes and vegetables please." "

Of course, sir." Her eyes cut to Peter and he quirks an eyebrow in Stiles' direction.

"I'll have the same."

She leaves and Stiles reaches for his wine glass but Peter catches his fingers. He pulls Stiles' arm towards himself and pushes his sleeve up. "It's still there, Peter."

"Hush," Peter whispers, his thumb moving reverently over the scar on Stiles' wrist from where Peter had bit him earlier to create the pack bond between them. Stiles can feel it in his chest. It's a warm sort of weight not unwelcome but still something he'll have to learn to live with. It's a small price to pay for the constant presence of the beautiful, complicated, _incredible_ man opposite him.

"What are you thinking about, Mischief?" Peter looks up but doesn't let go of Stiles' wrist.

"You."

Peter tips his head to the side curiously.

"Your scent was overwhelming with happiness."

With a shrug Stiles admits "you make me happy. You always did, well, you did from the first message. You did as Peter King and even more now."

Peter smiles, big and bright.

"I love you too Stiles." There's a serious to his tone under the light snark.

"Quite right too." Stiles squares his shoulders, tipping his head up to look down on Peter, "I am a delight." Then he ruins it all by laughing.

"I'm serious." Peter says and his expression confirms that.

"I know."

"Are you going to stop quoting pop culture references anytime soon?" Peter gives him a flat look.

"I'm so proud you got those."

"Doctor Who and Star Wars." Peter rolls his eyes, Stiles is impressed. "Highly unoriginal."

Delighted, Stiles laughs and gives Peter what he wants. "I love you."

"Thank you." Peter smirks.

Stiles is frowning.

"The O.C." Peter clarifies for him. "You're getting slack, darling."

Dinner is delicious and so is dessert. They talk about everything, Stiles' dad and how he and Scott stopped being friends. Peter talks about finding Phoebe and making a life for himself in New York. The discuss the latest Marvel film and how it differs from the comics, they talk about Harry Potter and what TV shows Peter missed in his coma that he absolutely must catch up on. 

They walk, hand in hand, to Peter's car. Peter pauses next to it and Stiles leans in to kiss him, just because he can. Peter tastes like chocolate and red wine as he licks into Stiles' mouth. The kiss gets heated, Stiles ends up against the car, holding Peter close to him, feeling how aroused he is. Stiles arches his hips pressing his own erection into Peter's thigh.

"I would invite you back to my dorm but you saw how small my bed is." Stiles whispers against Peter's mouth.

"I was under the impression you wanted to be wooed."

Stiles smiles and kisses Peter quickly. "You've wooed me, Peter. You've wooed me for months. If you don't want to have sex yet that's absolutely fine, I just want you to know it's on the table. I'm offering it. Putting it out there."

"Let's go back to my hotel room. I have to take you apart with my hands and mouth first, right?" Peter grins cheekily.

"Whatever you want, Peter."

Peter kisses Stiles deeply and someone catcalls them. They break apart and get into the car. Peter's hands hover over the steering wheel and the ignition without turning the car on. He seems to make a decision and starts the car, he doesn't drive towards the campus so Stiles settles back as they head towards Peter's hotel.

Peter pulls into The Blake Hotel, it's valet parking so the get out at the front entrance. Stiles is following behind as Peter takes them to his room.

Nothing has been said, still. It's not uncomfortable though, Stiles had to learn to value the quiet since parting from Beacon Hills. He learnt how he used words as a means to cling to people, force relationships where there were none or where they had been lost.

Stiles had grown up. He'd left Beacon His behind. As soon as he got to Columbia Stiles had ditched his phone got a new one, giving his dad the number and transferring to Yale straight away. He made it difficult for people, particularly the McCall Pack and Lydia, to follow or find him. Perhaps it was to his own detriment though. Stiles was lonely and friendless in a strange place.

He looks at Peter as he unlocks the door, if he hadn't fought with Scott so viciously Stiles wouldn't have moved to Yale and he wouldn't have started his blog and he never would have found Peter. Then again, Peter came to New York for him so they could have had this earlier. But Stiles probably wouldn't have given Peter the time of day back then. It's a constant cycle of 'what could have been' going around in Stiles' head. He's brought out of it by warm hands on his neck.

"You okay, love?" Peter looks concerned.

"Yeah, just thinking about life's twists and turns." Stiles leans in and presses their foreheads together. "How we ended up here."

"Are you complaining?"

"Not at all." Stiles grins and the moment is ruined by his phone ringing. Peter plucks it from Stiles' back pocket and hands it over. "Hey dad."

"Evening son, just checking in."

Stiles smiles. "All good, we've just finished dinner." 

"Peter's with you?" Dad's voice takes on a funny tone that immediately sets Stiles on edge.

"Yes."

Dad heaves a sigh. "Can I have a word with him, kiddo?"

"Uh," Stiles glances at Peter who nods. "Sure."

Peter takes the phone and sits on the edge of the bed. "Hello Sheriff." He's quiet as Stiles' dad talks and Stiles paces, looking at Peter every time he makes a noise, though he gives nothing away in his expression. "Alright. I appreciate you letting me know, Sheriff... John.... And yes, I do, I will.... I'll let him know. Thank you." Peter hangs up, drops the phone on the bed and immediately puts his face in his hands.

"Peter," Stiles comes forward to slide his fingers into Peter's hair. He stands with Peter until the other man is ready to talk.

"The mayor wants to tear down our house, Talia's house. They need a Hale to dispute it at the town meeting next weekend. Derek doesn't care."

"But you do." Stiles says softly.

"I do. My pack died there. It's their grave."

Stiles thinks over his schedule. "Town meetings are Saturday mornings so we go get in Friday night and leave Sunday morning."

Peter raises his head, eyes wide. "I can't ask you to go back."

"You're not. I'm offering." Stiles presses a kiss to Peter's mouth. "I won't let you go back alone. Besides I can see my dad."

"But Scott and Lydia..." Peter snarls.

"I have an alpha to protect me now." Stiles grins. He shifts so he can straddle Peter's lap. Peter's hands come up to hold him steady. "We'll be okay."

"Yeah." Peter closes his eyes, he looks older and worn. "Do you mind if we just go to sleep? I don't feel like-" 

"Yeah, no. I agree." Stiles smiles tiredly. "After that news I don't fancy sex either. I'd still like to stay the night if that's okay?" Peter opens his eyes and looks at Stiles fondly.

"Absolutely." He slides a hand up Stiles' back to his neck guiding him down into a soft kiss. "That is absolutely alright with me, Mischief."

**

The next week is an odd one. Stiles goes to all his classes, he hands in assignments on time and one early, he spends time with Nancy and Francis, and calls and texts Peter. However the week is overshadowed by a sense of dread. He had spent Saturday night, Sunday and Sunday night at the hotel with Peter. They didn't have sex, they didn't do anything more than kiss and cuddle. What they did was plan their trip to Beacon Hills, Stiles talked about his concerns and Peter shared his worries.

On Monday night they said their goodbyes, Peter had to get back to New York and Phoebe. They were going to meet in Beacon Hills on Friday night, Stiles flying in from New Haven and Peter and Phoebe from New York. Peter had explained it was important for Stiles and Phoebe to meet because they're pack too. Not caring what the reason was Stiles was just happy to meet her and see Peter again.

His flight lands in Beacon Valley airport at half past seven, after a change over to a smaller plane in San Francisco. Stiles is tired and stress and an anxious mess by the time he walks through the doors. In the crowd he spots two familiar faces and he stumbles with relief. Surging forward Stiles runs and hugs his dad with enough force to knock him back a couple of steps. Peter steadies John with a hand on his shoulder, giving Stiles a fond look. "Hey, kiddo, how was your flight?"

"Long and bumpy." Stiles pulls away from his dad to hug Peter. Peter subtly scentmarks him. "Hey, you."

"Hello, sweetheart." Peter takes Stiles' bag from his shoulder. "Come on, Phoebe's waiting in the cruiser."

The three of them head out to the cruiser, it's about an hour's drive from Beacon Valley to Beacon Hills. Phoebe is a beautiful dog. She's sitting waiting in the backseat but her ears perked up immediately when she sensed Peter, and possibly, Stiles coming. When dad unlocks the door she jumps out, sniffs the hand Stiles has outstretched to her before she bounds up to lock his face. Burying his hands in her fur Stiles rubs and scratches her. "Oh you're a beautiful girl. Who's the most beautiful girl? You, that's right Phoebe, you are!"

"He's more excited to see her than us, John." Peter says dryly.

"Well, she is fluffy." Stiles' dad says in a bland tone.

"Shut up you two, she's beautiful." Stiles stands and herds Phoebe back into the cruiser he climbs in after her. "We'll just cuddle on the backseat. Me and my best gal."

"Don't let Nancy hear you say that." Peter pauses, "nor Handsome Dan come to think of it."

Stiles' dad laughs clapping Peter on the shoulder. "He does love Handsome Dan. I get sent a selfie of them every year."

Grumbling Stiles shuts the door and straps in, Phoebe lays her head on his lap and he starts petting her head and scratching behind her ears. Dad and Peter get in and they start the long, tense drive to Beacon Hills.

Stiles jolts awake when Phoebe growls. "Wha-"

"Shh," Peter soothes as he strokes Stiles' hair. "It's okay, were at your dad's. You fell asleep in the car and she refused to leave your side. However, she can tell there's another pack approaching."

Rubbing his eyes Stiles blinks at the clock on the bedside table. it's almost midnight. "Seriously?"

"Deaton does have a flare for the dramatic and the Witching Hour et cetera, et cetera." Peter rolls his eyes.

"Can we deal with this in the morning?" Stiles asks through a yawn.

"How do you propose we manage that?" Peter arches his eyebrows.

"Spark." Stiles grins, wiggling his fingers. "I can make a mountain ash line about the house that only I or my dad or Phoebe can break. If you're comfortable with that?"

"Not entirely." Peter rests his forehead on Stiles' collarbone. "Do it."

"You sure?" 

He nods firmly. "Do it. It's late and I want to deal with this when I've slept plus it's a show of our strength."

"A Spark is better than a Druid," Stiles remembers Peter telling him. He stretches, yawns and gets up. Stiles opens the window and believes he has enough mountain ash to encircle the house and believes that on he, his dad or Phoebe can break it. He throws his hand as if tossing a frisbee but when it opens ash comes down in a neat line around the property.

Peter takes a sharp breath. "It's done," he says, and when Stiles looks at him his eyes are red. Phoebe is whining. "Come here, I need my pack close right now." Stiles goes easily. The three of them curl up together and Stiles soon falls back asleep safe in his alpha's arms knowing that the McCall Pack can't confront them tonight.

**

The next morning Stiles wakes up with his face in Peter's neck, half sprawled on top of him with Phoebe lying across their lower legs. 

He can tell that Peter is already awake because his finger is lightly tracing patterns along Stiles' back. "Morning, sweetheart," Peter says after pressing a kiss to Stiles' hair. 

Stiles groans and pushes his face more against Peter's skin. 

"Alright," Peter murmurs, "you can stay there for five more minutes then we have to get up."  


Peter lets him lie there for another ten before forcing him out of bed. Phoebe growls a little as they dislodge her from their legs. Stiles stumbles to the bathroom and Peter leads them both downstairs. 

"Morning John," Peter greets. 

John smiles at the from the kitchen table. "Morning. Get much sleep?"  


With a shake of his head Peter replies, "this one did." He guides Stiles into one of the kitchen table chairs. Immediately he slumps down, face on his arms on the table. 

"He's never been great with mornings." John remarks fondly. 

"I've noticed." Peter smooths a hand over Stiles' head before moving around the kitchen. "Coffee for everyone?" 

"Please." John says, laughing silently as Stiles waves his hand in the air with a grunt.   


#

"Toast or cereal?" 

John thinks about it, and just as Peter brings over his and Stiles' coffees he says "You don't have to do this Peter."   


"I don't mind." 

Stiles mumbles something and lifts his head, eyes barely open as he takes hold of the cup and drinking a mouthful. 

"Want to mumble that again, son?" John asks. 

Peter grins. "He said it's a werewolf thing. Providing for one's pack. Isn't that right, Mischief?"  


There's a chink and hot coffee is spilling over the table. John is pale even as he hastily rights his cup. Stiles is awake in an instant, "shit, sorry dad." 

Peter hands over a tea towel to mop up the mess. "I apologise John, I should have thought. Stiles told me about how his... how Claudia used to call him that." 

John wave his hand. "It's alright. Just a bit of a shock really, I haven't heard him called that in a long time. Just took me by surprise, is all." He gets up and takes the coffee soaked tea towel into the laundry. Stiles looks at Peter. 

"I'm sorry, love." 

"No, it's okay." Stiles reaches up and takes hold of Peter's hand. "It was bound to happen sometime." 

"Perhaps. But today of all days." Peter sighs. He looks at the clock. "We've got about an hour before we have to be at the town meeting. I don't want to be late." 

"I know," Stiles squeezes his fingers. "You go and have a shower, dad and I'll get breakfast and then, I'll shower while you eat. Okay?"  
Peter leans down to press his lips to Stiles' cheek. "Okay. I won't be too long." 

Stiles watches him go, Peter's looking tired and Stiles knows it's taken a lot for him to come back here. Possibly more than it took Stiles. 

**

Scott and Derek were waiting for them when the town meeting finished. Calmly, Peter untied Phoebe's leash from the steps outside the town hall then he led her and Stiles to stand before the McCall pack representatives

"Peter." Scott's eyes are narrowed.

"Alpha McCall." Peter inclines his head. "Perhaps we should take this somewhere less public."

"I don't think-" Scott begins but stops when Derek places a hand on his shoulder. "Fine."

"We'll meet by the old house in half an hour." Peter keeps his voice calm.

Derek swallows and nods before pulling Scott away. Peter watches them go then turns his back, bring Phoebe with him. Stiles walks next to him.

"Why by the house?"

"There's one Hale in each pack." Peter explains, "makes it neutral grounds."

Stiles snorts. "Not that neutral, you own it. Now."

With a smirk Peter says "I know."

They get into Stiles' old jeep, Roscoe, and start the drive to the old house in the Preserve. It will take about half an hour to get there. As they drive they make a plan of what to say, what to reveal about their pack and their relationship.

Stiles pulls up in front of the house. Peter stares at it for a long moment. "You okay?"

"Yes. I've made my peace, love." He gets out the car and opens the door for Phoebe to get out. She barks and runs around sniffing the ground. She gets muddy but she is having a good look around.

Stiles watches her as he leans against the hood of his jeep. Peter turns his head and mutters quietly "they're coming."

A few minutes later Stiles hears a car approach. He keeps his eyes on Phoebe though until the engine stops and the doors open and shut.

"Phoebe." Peter commands, the husky immediately leaves the tree she's sniffing alone and sits at Peter's feet. "Stiles." Peter says, voice firm, and without hesitation Stiles moves to stand at Peter's left hand side facing Scott, Derek and Lydia.

"I hardly think three pack members against two is fair, Scott," Peter says blandly.

Derek snorts. "You've got your dog, Uncle Peter. I know pets can be pack."

Out the corner of his eye Stiles sees Peter arch his eyebrows. "Are you saying that Lydia is your pack bitch?"

"How dare you!" Lydia hisses angrily. Derek grabs her hand.

Peter is raising his hands in a placating gesture though he has an infuriating smirk on his face. Stiles would be annoyed if he wasn't enjoying himself so much.

"You need to ask permission to be here Peter." Scott snarls, eyes red.

"Uh," Peter pretends to think, "I'm going to go with no. And do you know why?"

"Because he's a Hale Alpha," Stiles answers when the others are quiet. It's clear by the look on Scott's face he doesn't know, but Stiles thinks Derek and Lydia understand. "This is Hale Territory and you were bitten by him."

"Very good, darling." Peter brushes a fingertip down the back of Stiles' hand. "Shall we tell them what's going to happen?"

Stiles eyes them up. Scott looks the same as he had when Stiles left, he has the same betrayed yet determined look on his face. Derek appears softer, less harsh and slightly conflicted. Lydia is still impeccably dressed, though she eyes Stiles with the same wary caution she used to reserve for Peter alone.

"I think they know." Stiles answers. "They know that legally this house is yours, that the Hale territory belongs to the Hale alpha. The Hale Pack has a Spark which, of course, is more powerful than a Druid." Stiles smirks, ignoring the outraged sounds that came from both Scott and Lydia. "They are also aware that the Hale alpha is allowing them on his territory under the proviso that they look after it."

"I think that covers it." Peter nods. "Any questions?"

"You have no power here!" Scott shouts, his eyes red, claws out and face shifted.

Peter shifts I to his beta form in the blink of an eye and roars. The ground shakes, the McCall Pack are shoved back a few feet and birds fly off into the sky. Stiles adds a bit of Spark, he calls mountain ash out the air and it surrounds the three others. He makes a purple lightning shoot down and strike the ash until they're caged in by it all.

All the while Phoebe howls.

Then, as Peter's roar tapers off Stiles let's his Spark disappear, the mountain ash floating across to wind around Stiles' wrist. He blows on it and it disappears into nothing.

"I have all the power here Scott." Peter is back human, his face contorted into a sneer.

Derek is eyeing them with a look of confusion, Lydia clinging to his elbow her face a picture of horrified and Scott looks scared.

"We don't want to live here." Stiles says. "You have a Hale in your pack and we are allowing you to stay and look after the Hale territory. However, we will come and go as we please and you won't try and stop us again."

Scott's eyes meet Stiles' for the first time since he's been back in Beacon Hills. "What happened to you? You're a monster."

"You happened Scott." Stiles knows his heart is steady because he's telling the absolute truth. "You, with your black and white views of the world. You who found a girl and popularity and left behind the only friend you ever had. I stuck with you through the bullying, the asthma attack and your dad's beatings and leaving. You wouldn't stick with me when you got every high school cliche handed to you. You believed Theo over me, assumed the worst and made me a murderer in your eyes. You tried to stop me from getting the college education I'd worked so hard for, while letting Lydia go to where she damned well wanted. You were a hypocrite, a bad friend and a bad alpha. So _you_ happened Scott."

Scott doesn't say anything, eyes on the ground. 

"Come on, Stiles." Peter says. "We're done here."

Phoebe barks and bounds towards the jeep. Peter waits until Stiles has turned before he follows bringing up the rear.

**

After the drama of their first morning back in Beacon Hills, Stiles and Peter lay low during the rest of the visit. They wander the town during Saturday, have dinner with Stiles' dad Saturday night and fly out Sunday mid-morning. 

Stiles hates parting ways with Peter again, and Phoebe who whines as Stiles hugs her, rubbing his hands through her fur. "I know, beautiful girl. I'll see you soon, you'll just have to pester our alpha for cuddles." 

He hugs Peter then kisses him fiercely. "I love you," Stiles says firmly, gripping the back of Peter's neck so hard he'd leave bruises if it weren't for werewolf healing. 

"I love you too Mischief." Peter smiles coyly, in a way that suggests he knows something Stiles doesn't. "Go on, you'll miss your flight." 

They share another kiss and Stiles forces himself away with a sad sigh. "I'll see you soon?"

"I promise." Peter stands there, Phoebe sitting to attention at his feet watching Stiles as he goes through the check in gate and onto the plane. 

By nightfall he's in his dorm room feeling sorry for himself when there's a knock on the door. "Go away Nancy!" 

The knock comes again. Stiles grumbles to himself, as he gets up, he pushes the sleeves of Peter's jumper that he stole up to his elbows and opens the door. 

"Nancy I'm serious go-" Stiles stops talking. 

It's not Nancy. 

"What are you doing here?" Stiles asked, leaning against the doorjamb feeling weak-kneed.

"Anyone would think you aren't happy to see me, Mischief?" Peter responds with a smirk. Phoebe barks once and circles around Peter's legs before darting into Stiles' room. "See I had to leave my lover at the airport for the second time in two weeks and I hated it. So I transferred my ticket from New York to New Haven." 

"Peter."

"I don't want to spend another day without you, Stiles. I can work anywhere. I'll keep my place in Manhattan for now, and I'll get a place off campus and we can make this work. You, me and Phoebe." 

Stiles smiles, "our pack," he says pulling Peter in by his hands, kicking the door shut as they hug. 

With a huff, Peter holds Stiles tight and says, "no, Mischief, our family."

Laughing delightedly Stiles starts to turn them around in a circle, rocking from one foot to the next. 

"What are you doing?" Peter asks in his ear. 

"Hush," Stiles whispers. He kisses Peter's cheek. "Don't say a word, just dance with me."

**Author's Note:**

> [I'm on tumblr](https://cathcer1984.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I apologise if I have any of the dog interactions wrong, I don't have and have never had a dog in my life.
> 
> I'm sorry there's no sex scene, it just never really fit in... 
> 
> Unbeta'd.


End file.
